April 23rd
by theSardonyx
Summary: "What's so special about it?" the blond asked, confused. "Admittedly, it's unusually sunny, but that's not an excuse for me to get off of work, you know."
1. Chapter 1

**/ Let's all pretend that April 23 is not a special day in England, okay? /**

I

"What are you doing here?" England asked, his green eyes narrowed suspiciously at his "guests". The redhead in front of him sighed and glanced at his two companions with a look that said, "I told you so."

"How could you forget?" the stern looking ginger asked, looking at England as if he was stupid.

"Forget what?" the blond asked, both frustrated and confused. "I'm pretty sure you didn't call me about this 'visit' beforehand."

"There's no need for the air quotes, little brother," the redhead said. "And this isn't an ordinary visit, for sure."

"It's April 23rd," the brunet said quietly. Arthur sighed again.

"Not you too, Wales," he said. "I thought for sure you're here to talk some sense into Scotland. But then again, it also surprised me that North is in on it."

"In on what, little brother?" Scotland, the redhead, asked.

"This... Whatever it is," England said, exasperated. "Look, I have no time for your nonsense right now. If you were visiting, you should have phoned me in advance so I could clear my schedule. But right now, I have some reports to write up so I'd really appreciate it if we could do this some other time." He moved to close the door but Northern Ireland's foot was wedged in the corner of the doorway.

"It's no time for work," the ginger said gruffly, pushing the door open.

"It's a special day," Wales agreed.

"What's so special about it?" the blond asked, confused. "Admittedly, it's unusually sunny, but that's not an excuse for me to get off of work, you know."

"Aye, it isn't. It's a good thing that's not the reason," Scotland said. "Well, whether you know it or not right now is of little consequence, but I have to say, little brother, I'm really disappointed. 'We' are all disappointed."

"What's with the air quotes on that 'we'?"

Scotland just shrugged. ""Now go get dressed. We're going somewhere."

"This isn't some scheme to get me in trouble, is it?" England asked warily.

"Not today," Wales answered him, but it did nothing to ease the blond's suspicions. Nevertheless, he trudged upstairs to change. He wasn't going to admit that he was thankful for the excuse to get away from his paperwork for a while.

When he returned downstairs dressed in a plain white polo and black trousers, Scotland clicked his tongue. "Should've gone with you to pick your clothes," he grumbled. "But we're running late so it'll have to do."

"Late? What for?" England asked, but he received no answer. Instead, he was whisked into Scotland's car and the brothers rode off to Arthur-knew-not-where.

~.;*;.~

"Is a blindfold really necessary?" England asked as Wales tied a piece of cloth around his head. They've gone only a few meters before the Welshman brandished it in front of him and insisted on putting it on him.

"It will have more effect this way," the brunet replied. The blond Brit just sighed and stayed silent. Nobody spoke throughout the whole ride and it was relief to England when North tugged him out of the car. It was unsettling when the four of them were together and it was quiet. It usually doesn't bode well.

As England was led to he-knew-not-where, Wales deemed it necessary to point out various obstacles in the path that could trip England. The blond disregarded them at first, thinking it a joke, but after tripping several times and the Welshman swatting his shoulder for not listening, he started heeding the brunet.

"You're unusually kind today," England remarked.

Northern Ireland s snorted. "It's a special day, brawd. We're not going to do anything today."

"If April 23rd is 'be-nice-to-England-day', maybe I'll remember this occasion," the blond said. Scotland laughed.

"That's what you said last year too," the Scot said.

England made a face. "Last year?"

"Aye, last year. We visited too and we stayed at your place."

"But somehow, that eejit found out, so we're spending it out this year," North muttered.

"Eejit?" England echoed. "Who? And what did he find out?"

"Why do you always forget? Seriously," Scotland sighed. "You'll find out soon enough."

"So you're telling me that you visit me every year on April 23rd for some reason I apparently forgot-"

"You forget every year..." Wales grumbled.

"It's usually just the four of us on this day, but some idiot found out so now we're outside because of them. Does that about sum it up?" England asked.

"You made the same conclusion last year too. Minus the 'some idiot finding out' part, of course," Wales muttered.

Before England could ask what he meant, Scotland spoke up. "We're here. You can take the blindfold off now."

That's exactly what England did and what he saw made tears spring up in his wide eyes.

 **/****

 *** I've been meaning to post this story since May. I could've waited until April next year, but meh.**

 *** Sabila, this here is dedicated to you. Remember when I mentioned it? Hey, come back soon. :)**

 ***/**


	2. Chapter 2

**/ Fast update because this is only a two-shot anyway. /**

II

"Wha- Why are they all here?" England whispered as he took in the gathering in front of him. His former colonies, previous alliances, friends- they were all in front of him because it was April 23rd.

"Happy birthday, England!" everyone cheered and it was too much for the blond to handle- too much- that he collapsed on his knees with tears streaming down his face.

"Whoa, Iggy. You okay there, dude?" America asked, surprised at the Englishman's sudden breakdown. The other nations also drew closer, sporting similar looks of concern.

"I... My birthday..." was all England could stammer in his shock.

"Aye, lad. Your birthday. How can you forget your own birthday?" Scotland remarked, trying to pull his younger brother to his feet. The blond Brit stayed down, however, with his knees still wobbly.

"April 23rd... Of every year..." England muttered to himself. Images of the past April 23rds, his previous birthdays, how his brothers spent it with him in his home, singing and laughing over cake and ale, pushed through his mind like a video on fast forward. How could he have forgotten?

No, that wasn't right. He didn't forget. He remembered them all- how couldn't he- but he dismissed them as dreams, as fantasies that his lonely mind made up for temporary moments of happiness. And who's to say that this time wasn't a dream too?

"Right... It must be..." he said, shakily rising to his feet. Scotland helped steady him- and the Scot felt so real, how could he be a dream?

"Must be what?" the redhead asked.

"This," England gestured to the people, the balloons, the banquet. "It can't be real. It's impossible. So I have to be dreaming right? Just like back then... Just like the previous times I remember..."

"England." Scotland's voice was firm. "This is plenty real."

"But I must be," the blond insisted, breaking away from Scotland's hold. "I'm dreaming and I should wake up or... Or I'll..."

England's tears continued to cascade down his cheeks, sobs wracking his small frame. "Why _wouldn't_ it be a dream? You... You're all here and you're smiling at me. Why would you be smiling at me unless it was a dream?"

"Of course we'll smile at you," America said resolutely. "We-"

"You wouldn't!" England's cry startled everybody. It was full of certainty- and despair. "Why would you?" His voice gradually grew weaker and so did he. He collapsed into his brother's arms and his last statement was almost unheard.

"Why would you when you all hate me?"

But it _was_ heard and everybody was stunned into silence.

"Of course not, lad," Scotland said after a few moments, carding his fingers on his youngest brother's hair. "We don't hate you. Why would you think that?"

"You've told me... So many times..." England put his hands over his ears, hearing those hateful words again, the insults and accusations, telling him that they hate him, loathe him, despise him- "You told me... You keep telling me... I hear it everywhere... It's on bloody repeat and it won't stop- you won't stop- and it hurts... Please stop, _stop_ , STOP!"

He was breaking down and he knew it but he didn't care. This was a dream, so it wouldn't change anything, right? The others wouldn't know because he was just imagining them- they're not really there- and they'd still find him the prideful country that he appeared to be and they'd still hate him, loathe him, despise him-

The warmth that surrounded him felt comfortable and he clung to it desperately, like a lifeline, because it hurt and the warmth felt great and so, _so real_.

"Nobody's saying it, Albion. We don't hate you," Nothern Ireland's usually gruff voice sounded to tender, so _loving_ , that England was completely convinced that it was all just an illusion.

"What do you know?" the blond mumbled, trying to sound angry but failing. Instead, he sounded disappointed. "You aren't real.."

"We're plenty real!" Even in his mind, America's voice sounded too loud. "If you think you're dreaming, old man, then that's the delusion here."

"Mais oui!" How did that obnoxious voice find its way into his dreams? "This beauty of mine can't be recreated even by your vivid imagination, Angleterre."

Everybody else followed with their own reassurances that they were real and that this was reality, followed by hugs and kisses that felt much too _real_ that it overwhelmed England. He cried again- when did he stop?- and while he felt hope rise within his chest, he still couldn't bring himself to believe it.

It all came down to his brothers and as soon as the last nation released England from their embrace, Scotland and Northern Ireland wasted no time in pinching his cheeks.

It _hurt_. Dreams weren't supposed to hurt like that, right?

"Ow..." was all England could say in his shock, tears momentarily stopping while he touched his sore cheeks. He stared wide-eyed at everyone in front him who were sporting identical grins, smiles that felt warm, accepting, and loving.

"We _love_ you, England," Wales said and the blond felt tears prick his eyes once again. How much more was he going to cry today?

"Happy birthday, England!" everybody cheered again, followed this time by a round of applause.

This time, England knew that it was real. This time, he believed them, the smiles and the laughs and the happy atmosphere. This time, he wasn't going to forget April 23rd.

 **/ I really hope this chapter turned out alright. I was going to have Sabila look at it first, but then... Anyway, please review.! :) /**


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